Charles walked to his desk and opened a leather folder. “My son wanted to tell you everything tonight. He intended to take you away after the ball. But he underestimated Lila.”

“You said not to trust her.”

“Because Lila Summers is desperate. Desperate people are dangerous.”

Emma stepped forward. “What does she want?”

Charles slid a document across the desk.

Emma read the first page.

Then the second.

Then her world tilted.

It was a medical report. Genetic testing. Legal names. Bloodlines.

Lila Summers was Charles Weston’s daughter.

But that was not the shocking part.

At the bottom of the page was another note.

Potential hereditary risk present in Weston male line. Immediate prenatal screening recommended.

Emma pressed a hand to her belly.

“What is this?”

Charles’s voice softened, almost convincingly. “The Weston family carries a condition. Rare. Devastating if untreated. Andrew knew. He kept it from you.”

Emma’s throat tightened. “Why?”

“Pride. Denial. Fear.” Charles looked toward the window. “He thought if he ignored it, he could be different from the rest of us.”

Before Emma could respond, headlights swept across the rain-slick driveway.

Charles’s expression changed.

For the first time, Emma saw fear in his face.

A maid burst into the library. “Sir, Mr. Andrew Weston is at the gate.”

Emma turned toward the window.

Below the cliff road, a black car stood in the fog.

Andrew stepped out into the rain, soaked, furious, alive with desperation.

And beside him stood Lila.

She was holding a gun.

PART 5 — A Gun in the Rain

Emma ran before Charles could stop her.

“Emma!” he barked.

But she was already down the hall, one hand on the banister, the other guarding her unborn child as she descended the staircase into the cold blue dawn.

Outside, the rain struck her face.

Andrew saw her and took one step forward.

“Stay back!” Lila screamed.

The gun trembled in her hand.

Up close, she looked nothing like the glittering girl from the ballroom. Her makeup had run. Her red hair clung to her cheeks. Her eyes were wild, not victorious.

“Emma,” Andrew said carefully, “don’t come closer.”

She ignored him. “Lila, why did you call me?”

Lila’s mouth opened.

Andrew stared at her. “You called Emma?”

Lila’s face crumpled. “Someone had to tell her.”

Charles appeared behind Emma, his voice like ice. “Put the weapon down.”

Lila swung the gun toward him.

“You ruined my mother,” she spat. “You hid me. Paid us off. Then when I came asking for the truth, you sent men to scare me.”

Emma looked at Charles.

He said nothing.

That silence answered everything.

Andrew took another step. “Lila, give me the gun.”

“You kissed me in front of everyone,” she said, sobbing now. “You said it would draw attention. You said cameras would protect us.”

Emma turned slowly toward Andrew.

His face was pale.

“That was the plan?” she whispered.

Andrew’s jaw tightened. “I needed the scandal public enough that if anything happened to Lila, the press would ask questions.”

Emma felt as if the ground were shifting beneath her.

“All this humiliation,” she said, voice breaking, “was strategy?”

Andrew’s eyes filled. “I was trying to keep you out of it.”

“You put me in the center of it.”

“I know.”

Those two words held more regret than every apology he had never given her.

Then Charles moved.

It happened fast.

His hand reached inside his coat.

Lila screamed.

Andrew lunged.

The gun fired.

The sound tore across the cliffs.

Emma froze.

Andrew staggered backward, one hand pressed to his shoulder as blood spread across his white shirt.

Lila dropped the gun and collapsed to her knees.